Tuesday, 8 December 2015

Every BODY Hurts, Sometimes

“Everything”
- was the am-dram response I gave earlier today to the question, “What hurts?”
from a friend. It may sound dramatic and borderline bullshit, but at the time it
was a frighteningly accurate description.

Allow me to set the
scene: I’d eaten some lunch; nothing wild, no endangered species lathered in
butter, no sizzling spicy concoctions. Just some chicken and some salad. Oh and
a bit of potato too, but even then I only ate the inside, leaving the skin as I
know it destroys me. So, a boring,
but non-hazardous lunch – YOU WOULD THINK. But you’d be WRONG. And you can tell
how serious I am because I AM USING CAPSLOCK.

Today ‘everything
hurts’ is an accurate portrayal of how I am feeling. Boring lunch or no boring
lunch.

My bones and
muscles ache. My stomach is cramping and pained. My head is splitting. My eyes
are itchy.

MY HAIR HURTS.

The list goes on.
(But not here, and not right now, because I would like to retain at leastsomereaders by the end of this post). The
reason I’ve taken to my blog to electronically whine about all of this is
because answering that question today and feeling like a drama queen stressed
me out. It frustrated me that answering questions on my disease honestly, often
has such dire consequences; even in my own head! I know I am not lying or
bending the truth yet I can still feel like a fraud saying it out loud.

How is it possible
tofeelpain, and then feel shame when
audibly expressing it? (I suppose ‘shame’ isn’t the right word; maybe
frustration?) A feeling that happiness, and ‘normal’ conversation is thwarted
by a constant nagging pain. Crohn’s is that annoying boy who used to pull on
your bra strap, or that puddle you step in with suede shoes on. Always putting
a dampener on daily life.

It’s possibly the
raised eyebrows and the perceived doubt from others imposed upon us when we
convey our illness. We look fine
after all. I can’t even really blame people for this doubt; I sometimes look at
myself in the mirror and even though internally
I feel like Satan has set up home in my intestines, I still look a million
dollars (well… maybe a tenner). That alone can have even the most diseased
women doubting their symptoms. We learn to question our every twinge and hold
off from seeking help because ‘it could be worse’ or ‘it has been worse’. But that can also be dangerous.

If we are
struggling we should vocalise it. Not to doubt ourselves, or accept doubt from
others, but to trust our gut. Even if it’s the gut causing all the drama in the
first place.